Craving
by werewolfluvr147
Summary: I’m sorry it escaladed to what happened. I should have stopped you. I don’t know what I would have done, but God, I would have done something. I could have saved you. But I didn’t. All I could do is watch you fall from grace.
1. Dear Naruto, I'm Sorry

Hinata's writing to Naruto about his "fix". Too bad it causes more destruction than fixing.

* * *

Dear Naruto,

I wish I could tell you this in person. I wish I could magically poof to wherever you are and just tell you that… well, that I love you.

Weird, right? Why would someone as extraordinary and amazing as you care about some shy, timid girl like me?

You must hate me, hell, I hate me. I saw you crumble before my eyes, and helped you get to where you are now. I fueled the addiction. Whenever you told me you were going to smoke or go get a line, I would just smile and tell you to have fun. To have _fun._ That's all I could say. I remember I even bought you a line, when you had spent all your previous money on your previous fix. All I would do is watch you fall from grace.

I wish I was like Sasuke, or even Sakura, who refused to be around you when you were high or drunk. They always knew what to do when you had an episode. They were true friends. I want to go back and tell you that if you continued you would destroy –_obliterate-_ your life. But I didn't. I'm a coward. I've seen people on those TV shows that finally get better when they lose everything. I was the only thing that stood in your way of a better life.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry it escaladed to what happened. I should have stopped you. I should have. I don't know what I would have done, but God, I would have done _something_. I could have saved you. But I didn't.

I remember when I first met you. We were 7th graders and you commented on my hair. Out of all the things you could have pointed out, you decided to talk about the purple mess on my head. You called it pretty and I blushed. You smiled at me, which proceeded to make me blushed even harder. Then you left, and went to your friends. After the 5 years we've known each other that is my fondest memory of you. The way your eyes shone under the florescent light bulbs in our science class paralleled the way an ocean sparkles under the sun.

I miss that shine. It's been absent in my life for years. I crave it. I crave it as much as you crave your fix.

Maybe that's why I stayed. I thought that it would come back when you were sober. I thought it would be a normal occurrence in our lives. But, like always, I was wrong.

Once again, I'm sorry. Oh God, am I sorry. When I heard the news I, well, fainted. When I woke up I threw up my lunch. I know it's a little graphic, but that's how you affect me. Then, I shut up, to put it simply. I stopped talking to anyone and everyone who tried to comfort me. I went into a metaphorical coma. I stopped talking, eating, stopped leaving my house. I couldn't face what I did to you.

The scene keeps replaying in my head. The last time we talked face to face, was the worst moment in my life.

You remember it, don't you? We were walking through Konoha, and like always, you were begging me for cash. We used to joke about this being you favorite activity. You were coming down, and coming down hard. You needed more. When I said no, you tried to describe the feeling or being high to me.

Flying, soaring, weightlessness. Not a worry or care in the world. Happiness. Like a blanket of comfort wrapped snugly around you.

When I looked like I didn't care, you told me of coming down.

Crashing, falling, heaviness. Every worry you had ever thought came back, ten times stronger. As if God had tied you down with thousand pound weights, and made you suffer. The dry heaves, the sweating, the shaking. The insanity.

I let my guard down and looked shocked, and sorry for you. That's when you made your attack.

You told me that you needed money to fly again. You needed money to be happy again, and then you smiled. Much like the time I first met you. Your eyes sparkled under the sun, and I melted.

You must have felt the shudder I gave, because you moved closer to me, and I could feel your breath on my ear.

"You want me to be happy, don't you?"

I knew you got me. I couldn't say no, because I did, and do, want you to be happy. Just not in that way. I wanted you to be happy in the way everyone else is happy. I wanted you to smile at a bright day, laugh at the wind messing with your hair, goof around with friends. I wanted normal happiness. Not a chemical induced one.

But your face was so close to mine, and I could feel the warmth of your body near mine. So, I did what any other love struck teenage girl would do. I gave you what you wanted.

When you pulled back I felt cold again. Not because your warmth left me, but because your smile changed. It was colder, and sly, in a way. I could see in your smile that I was a toy to you, and that I was disposable as soon as I provided you with what you begged me for.

What once was a friend was now a bank.

I asked if I could go with you, to see what kept you going there, what kept you from me. First you seemed apprehensive, but slowly nodded. You told me that where we were heading was dangerous, and that I should keep my mouth shut. When we arrived I did what I was told.

I still don't know what you see in that place. It was cramped, dingy and smelled like a chemical bath.

You exchanged money, and left the place with me and your fix

You were so desperate for some that you turned the next corner and took the bag out of your pocket.

I'm glad that you were so focused on the white powder that you couldn't see my face. I was so scared. I had never seen you snort before, and the look of hunger in your eyes gave me dry heaves.

I should have stopped you then, I should have taken the powder away or ran to a place where they could help you. But instead I turned away and stared at the ground.

I'm ashamed. That was the worst thing I have ever done in my life, neglect a friend when I saw he needed help.

After you were done snorting, I turned back and saw you smiling. It was a lazy, dropping, calm smile. It made me shiver. But one the less I walked back to you, and sat next to you.

I asked how you felt and you laughed. It was a scary, creepy laugh. You said you felt like you were flying. Like you were invincible.

Can you believe I actually smiled? Who smiles at a drug addicted friend? A sick, twisted person who was happy she made her friend happy.

What a load of bull.

I couldn't stop you. I wanted to, I _so_ wanted to. But it was already in you, and all I did was promise that I wouldn't supply you again. That I couldn't. But we both know the truth, you own me, and I do whatever you say, I would most definitely supply you.

We sat in silence, before you turned my face toward yours and kissed me.

I understood what you meant by that high. I was flying and ecstatic and never wanted to crash. But I did.

You tasted wrong.

I've dreamt of our first kiss since, well, since I met you. I imagined us somewhere bright and beautiful, like a park, or watching a sunset. I imagined how your lips felt, soft and firm. But mostly, I imagined you tasting like ramen, and soda. Childish, yes, but it is the taste of childlike innocence. The kind you used to emit.

You tasted hard. I don't know what that was because of. It could have been the fix, it could have been the way your mouth felt cold. Or maybe it was the way you explored my mouth with such a need, with such a hunger, that you didn't feel _me,_ just my mouth. It was nothing more than a meaningless kiss.

You know, when you first started I actually researched the effects of your fix? Increased libido was one. I was nothing more than a side effect of your fix.

Knowing this, I should have pushed away, but I couldn't. Even if I was nothing to you, you were _everything _to me.

So, I kept going with you, in a dirty alley. Unfiltered passion. Well, on my side of things.

When we broke apart, you gave me that lazy, induced smile and chuckled.

"I love you"

Wrong place, wrong time, wrong circumstance.

I started to cry. You wiped my tears away. That made me cry harder.

I shook my head and got up. I stared down at you for a few seconds, before turning the corner and walking away from you.

I want to change it. I want to change everything. I want to change me giving you money, change the sinfully incredible kiss, and liking it. I want to change walking away from you, not answering any of your calls in the following week, shutting you out of my life. I want to change not visiting you in the hospital, and still not being able to visit you in rehab.

I even want to change loving you. But I can't, and I know I never will.

I left you alone I that alley because that kiss broke my heart. It shattered me. It was everything I could dream of, and everything I have nightmares about.

I loved that kiss, I loved it more than I can describe in all the words in our measly little English language. I often want to put that time in reverse and replay it over, and over. You were as high and messed up, no wait (excuse my language here) fucked up, as could be, and used me to satisfy yourself, and I loved it. I wanted more. I almost turned back because I needed more.

I craved you. And as a result of that,

I feared you.

It's my fear and avoidance that put you there. After the week of ostracizing you, Sakura called me to tell me what happened.

You were going a week without a fix, and you were falling, crashing, and burning harder than you ever had before. No one would give you money, and you were suffering, in torment, dying. You couldn't handle it anymore, so you took the blade you used for separating lines and slit your wrists.

I know I'm the girl who is going to major in English, but I think you should join me. Slashing your wrist with the thing that helped you and your fix. Veins are the symbol of life, carrying blood to the heart that keeps us going. Veins, that carried your fix through your body, to your brain and your heart whenever you choose to inject it. Veins, that stopped carrying blood to my brain when I heard of what you had done. Veins that struggled to get blood my broken heart, the heart that decided that it would stop beating if yours stopped.

It's been 3 months since I've seen you, the longest I've ever been away from you in five years.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for everything. For helping you, for not helping you, for rejecting you when you needed me, for being there when you didn't, for avoiding you for three months, for not being able to banish my fear and visiting you. For not letting you go.

I understand if you're mad, and don't write me back, but I just wanted to tell you it's not your fault, it's mine.

If you turn into a monster

A murderer

A thief

A saint

Or stay the same druggie

I will always love you.

Always yours,

Hinata.

* * *

Loosely based around mine and my friend's relationship.  
There are some things in this world you wish you could rewind and fix. But life is full of would have, could haves, and should have. Too bad we don't.

Edited while listening to Cat and Mouse by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

Next chapter the "fix" is actually named.


	2. Dear Hinata, Don't Be

Dear Hinata,

I hate it when you apologize like that. You kept repeating how this is all your fault and how you "fueled" my addiction. I don't like being upfront with you, because I know how sensitive you are, but that's crap Hinata. Were you the one that smoked it? Snorted it? Supplied it? Yeah, I didn't think so. The only thing you fueled was the part of me that wanted to get better.

Too bad it wasn't as strong as my need to feel better.

No, I don't hate you. It's the opposite. While you say Sakura and Sasuke were good friends for taming me when I got out of control, you were a better friend because you were there for me when I was out of control. You stuck by me like a true friends should. And thank you for that.

You know, I actually remember the first day I talked to you.

As you said we were in 7th grade and I talked to you about your hair. It was a pretty strange encounter, but the way you caught my eyes those 5 years ago, I had to think of some excuse to talk to you. To just hear your voice. So, I commented about your perfect locks.

I still don't understand why you dislike it so much; your hair is pretty nice looking, just like you.

You know, through all these years that we've known each other I don't understand you. I understand why we became friends. I was a funny upbeat kid that could make you laugh and you adored me, but why did we stay friends?

When you compare us, we are polar opposites.

You're the smart, good girl, who's going to go on to college and most likely going to become a college professor. You come from money. An heiress. You have a family, though they aren't the most supportive, they're there for you, and love you. To top off all of that you are the nicest person I've ever met, and epitomize the term "heart on her sleeve".

I'm me. I'm not that smart (How smart could I be if I got addicted to drugs?), not that good, and will most likely relapse after I get out of this place. I'm destined to be here. I come from a good family that now lies six feet under. I have no one, and will live and die with no one. I'm a meth addict.

I think the only mistake you ever made was staying with a disaster like me. And that's the only thing you should be sorry about.

I don't forgive you for not visiting, because there's nothing to forgive. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't visit myself either. From what Sasuke and Sakura tell me I really messed you up that day. I heard you stopped talking to everyone, you even stopped eating. All because of a fucked up person like me.

I'm sorry to say this Hinata, but that's not normal. You shouldn't feel pity for the soulless.

I know you're going to argue that I'm not soulless and that I'm kind and loving and all that shit, but I wish you could see beyond that. I wish you could see past the 16 year old me. The one that never had the sweet taste of a high. The one that had never flown before. The one that's never coming back.

I remember the last time we talked too. The last time I ever had a sniff.

That was the worst day of my life too.

As you said before I was quickly crashing to the ground. I hadn't had any in about three days and I wanted, no needed my fix.

Why do you call it my fix anyway? It's not a fix. A fix is temporary, something that repairs before something breaks again. Meth was not a fix; it was a life saver, it was my liberator, it was my salvation. It was so much _more _than a fix, was my savior.

That's why I needed your money, because I could see the ground beneath me, and I knew if I didn't have any in the next day or so, I would slam, face first, into it.

It's amazing how much smarter I am when I'm flying, because I remember everything Kakashi taught us in our psych class. How to hit just the right words to influence someone. How, if someone could use the right tone, body language and pauses he or she could make someone putty in their hands.

You were my putty.

I described in the best way I could the feeling of flying. How everything was just right in the world.

Then they way everything comes to a screeching halt and you started plummeting towards the ground with no way to stop it but more meth.

I wish I didn't lie to you that day. You only fly the first few times. Then, you just need. You smoke, snort, inject, just to stay sane. Just so the heaves stay away, so the food you eat stays in you, so you have a semi- stable state of mind.

You know what I just noticed? You never name what my fix is. Are you afraid of it?

You shouldn't be.

But then again, you should.

When you handed over the money I practically ran to my dealer, but before I could make a fast dash there, you asked if you could come with.

At first I was going to say no, 'cause a meth house is no place for you to be. A princess like you in a house with trash like me? It almost made me laugh. Yet, you had a look in your eyes that I couldn't deny, so I took you with.

I tried to make the deal as quick as I possibly could. There were so many bad things about you in there. How your clean, angelic face contrasted the look of the dirty dealers and addicts, the way you looked so terrified, yet mystified by the place. But, mostly it was the looks my dealer was giving you, it pissed me off. Like you were another piece of meat, another craving he had to quench.

When we left, I was so eager and excited for my next chance at invincibility, that I forgot all about you and turned the next corner to snort.

I'm sorry I scared you Hinata, but I needed it. Damn, I still do. Oh and there was no way you could have stopped me. I'm glad you didn't try, or else I might be in jail for assault. As unbelievable and improbable as that seems now, I learned that no one, not even you, could get in the way of my salvation.

When you came to sit next to me, I felt like we were on our own cloud nine. Just you and I floating around the city, without a care in our lives.

You must have felt it too. Well, at least I thought you did because you asked me how I felt and smiled at me. A smile that matched mine.

I mean, it was the first time I saw you smile that whole day, you _must have_ felt us flying around. I know you did.

And that's why I kissed you. Why not share a kiss with a princess while you're flying?

Maybe you're right about the increase sexual appetite thing, because that kiss with you made me feel like I did the first time I ever snorted, hell, maybe even higher than the first time.

That's why I said what I said when we pulled away. I knew girls were suckers for those three words, and I needed you with my meth. I thought that if I said I loved you, you would say it back, and we'd be together forever.

You, Me, and My Demon.

You cried instead.

Way to ruin my plans.

Haha, just trying to take away all the drama here….

Then you left me there, alone with my baggie of nirvana.

After you left I sat there for an hour or so, strung out of my mind, then walked home.

I crashed on my bed (or at least I think I did, I was so high, I don't know if I even made it to my apartment) and stared at my ceiling, watching little foxes chase around rabbits. I fell asleep like ten minutes later.

When I woke up I snorted again, but I didn't feel that same high that I did when I was with you. I was craving a new sort of high. I had to have you.

When I called you, you didn't pick up your phone. I left a message.

"I need you"

Probably not the best words to hear from the guy that just broke your heart. Yeah, sorry about that.

The next day I was out of meth, and _craved_ you.

To quote you "What once was a friend was now a bank"

I'm sorry if this all sounds harsh and unfeeling, but you need to give me up to go on. By seeing you in my point of view maybe you will.

I kept calling and calling you before I thought of calling my other- less likely to lend me money- banks.

"You need help"

"Why don't you come to the hospital with me?"

"I'm not going to help you ruin your life"

"Fuck no. Next time you call, call me for a valid reason"

That's not even half of the responses.

I needed my salvation. I was so close to hitting the ground I could already feel the hard, unforgiving ground coming close to breaking every bone in my body.

Ha, as if crashing felt that nice.

It was such agony, I don't even know if I can describe it here. I basically freaked out. I was having dry heaves, actual real heaves, even moving around hurt.

The world was taking a direction I didn't even know existed. Everything seemed like hell.

I had two options.

I could steal from the one friend that still talked to me. The one that stuck by me no matter what. The one who gave me the best high in the world. The one chalk full of money. The one who most likely wouldn't miss twenty or thirty bucks.

I was about to too. I snuck into your room when you were gone. I searched everywhere for your money, and when I found it I grabbed it as fast as I could. All 138 dollars and 48 cents. I while sneaking back out when I caught a glipse of a picture we took durning freshman years. You know, the one at the carnival, where my arm was slung around your neck, and your eyes were all bugged out, and your face was red?

That's still my favorite picture.

I looked at the money again. I couldn't do it. I wouldn't be able to live with myself afterwards. I've stolen so much from you already; I let you keep your money.

The other option was the one I chose. I felt like Sasuke when I stared at that blade. I actually chuckled a little. All through our three years of high school we called him emo boy, and constantly made fun of his mood swings, and his girly features. And here I was, the one that was going to slit his wrist. The most emo way to go.

I don't remember much after that. I do know that my last thought in consciousness was you, smiling at me.

I wish I died that day, because that would be the best last image ever.

But no, someone had to find me and rush me to the hospital.

I feel like that was karma. God wasn't going to let me go that easily. Not without paying for all my wrong doings.

Do you think if I died I would go to heaven or hell? Surely it would be hell.

I've stolen, broken hearts, became an addict and I broke my best friend.

I made her fall in love with a demon like me, just so I could get money from her. She became viewed more like a piggy bank than a friend. No longer a human being, but a place to store cash that wasn't mine.

I like the last few lines of your letter. No matter what you will always love me.

Why?

I'm a monster, a villain, a demon.

You don't get it Hinata, I know how you've read all those books about "How the lion fell in love with the lamb" and crap. But that lion will rip you to shreds. The only thing stopping him is a rehabilitation facility. Lions aren't meant to feel and be compassionate. They are made to kill the weak.

So don't be weak here Hinata. Become your own type of lion, your own monster, and get over me. I'm made to kill, and if you stay by my side I will guarantee you, that your life will fall just as far down as mine.

Please don't write me back Hina.

Escape with all the sanity you have,

Naruto

* * *

Um, not much to say here. I'm sorry if i made him a jerk, but he's kinda modeled after my friend, but a nicer version. E is WAY meaner than this. Oh, and Hinata and Naruto are 17. So he's been using for a year or so. I couldn't make him too addicted cuz then he wouldn't have so much insight and wisdom, and he'd still be kinda usy.

Thank you to CheezingIt54, Master Kei and xxx (whoever u are) for reveiwing.

Edited while listening to Mama by My Chemical Romance


	3. Dear Naruto, Do You Remember When?

Dear Naruto,

Too bad you took all of it when you left me.

First of all, I never really believed the lamb fell in love with the lion. What type of suicidal lamb would do that? It was more like an antelope fell in awe with a cheetah.

Not as beautiful as Twilight puts it, but it's true. An antelope is strong, powerful, and fast. She can get away with a sudden swiftness, so that before the cheetah realizes what has happened she is gone. But she doesn't leave. She doesn't want to.

She can't.

The cheetah is so powerful and mesmerizing that she can't take her eyes off him. She tries to, God knows she tries, but they're glued to him.

He's amazing. He's fearless. His presence is authoritative and compelling. He's strong.

He's dangerous.

That is what's keeping her there. The shear knowing that any minute he could attack her, but he doesn't.

Why doesn't the lion attack the antelope?

I think that's the better question here. We all know why girls fall in love with danger, and how they're stupid for falling.

But why doesn't danger attack? It should destroy this girl that's head over heels for it. Yet it waits it out and keeps her safe. It lets her watch, but not touch. It expects her to stay sweet and good in its presence, yet it'll be as terrifying as it wants.

It drives her to insanity.

Now, at this point in her life, she wished danger killed her. Or at least took her with for the ride.

Because here I am, writing a letter to a boy that doesn't love me. Here I am, crying over this paper, wishing I didn't love you either. Here I am, when I should be there, visiting you.

Here I am, wishing, and not doing.

If you took me with you, I would be ok. I wouldn't be alright, I know that, but I'd be better than this. I would rather be suffering in a rehab center, being miserable and having the heaves than being here.

Rehab centers can fix your addiction to drugs. They can cure you from your aliment, and get you on the right road to life. An addiction to drugs is at least semi- curable.

An addiction to you isn't.

You know, I read your letter about 6 times?

At first, I thought it was funny.

So, we're polar opposites. Let's compare us, shall we?

If you're stupid for getting into drugs, I'm stupid for getting into a druggie. If you're not good because you're into drugs, I must be terrible, because no matter what you say I _did_ supply them to you. You'll relapse into drugs as soon as you get back out, I'll most definitely relapse back into you when you get back out. If you're destined to be in there, where does that leave me? Destined to wait out here for you. Your family's six feet under, but my family could be just as far away. They don't really care about me anyway. You have no one, and will live and die with no one. I have you, and will live and die without you.

I'm addicted to you.

Not so different now, are we?

Then your letter pissed me off.

You are not soulless, no matter what you say. Someone without a soul would have stolen from me that day, and they would still be here, stealing. They wouldn't realize how wrong they are; even if they grasped it three months after all of this happened. They wouldn't try to protect me from themselves, they would keep sucking me dry of every emotion I ever had.

I believe you have more of a soul than most people we know.

Then it made me sad.

"That's why I said what I said when we pulled away. I knew girls were suckers for those three words, and I needed you with my meth."

I've spent months trying to figure out what those three words meant.

Did you really love me? Did you really mean what you said? If you did mean it, what would become of us?

I spent weeks dreaming of our future. When you got out of rehab you would come to me and say those three words. How I'd keep you off of drugs, and we could form a normal life together.

Now I know what they meant to you.

Drugs.

I want to yell at you here. I want to ask if that's all you ever think about. I want to scream and tell you that you don't just say those three words if you don't mean them. I want to cry and yell and bawl and clamor and yelp and wine.

But what I'm going to do here is let it go.

I won't give you the privilege of seeing me at my worst again.

You've seen me at rock bottom enough times, I'm going to collect my last pieces of self worth and I'm not going to show you what I think of you and your drugs. You already know how I feel about your fix.

Yes, I said fix again. I'm not scared to say meth, I just choose not to. I'm choosing to say fix because it doesn't bother me as much as the word meth does.

It sounds unclean, and not worthy to be associated with you.

I already know that you're going to argue about that point too, but in my eyes you will always and forever be the boy I fell in love with, the boy before the meth.

I know this is absolutely besides this point, but do you have flashbacks of us before you got addicted? I have them everyday.

My fondest memory of you is your IPod.

I've always loved how music was the great connector of people. Even before the drugs you were something of a trouble maker and not the person parents want their kids around. I was the wallflower, who couldn't get out a sentence out without a stutter.

Yet, music connected us together, as if we were the same person, in the same situations. We could feel and taste and touch and see and struggle and understand each other's lives.

I've always liked your style of music. I liked the sweet sadness of the bass. The way the voice of the singer intertwined with the grief and melody of the guitar.

But what I liked the most about your IPod and its music is when you sang along it. You hit every note like you knew them for years, and sometimes your voice was like a melody to me. It was one harmony that always soothed my most irrational fears.

Do you remember that night on the roof? I don't blame you if you don't. It was most likely a nonentity in your life, something you could forget.

But I can let it go.

I came to your apartment in the middle of the night after I had a fight with my parents. Like always you didn't ask any questions, you just opened your door to me, and fell asleep on the sofa.

That's why I always went to your house. You would just invite me in, no questions asked. I'm not sure if it's because you didn't care, or if you thought I could handle my issues without people bugging me, or if it was because you knew that all I needed was silence.

Whatever it was, the thought of knowing that I wouldn't get any third degree made me keep coming back to you. You always could read me like an open book, and that's something I could never seem to do with you. I'm sorry I wasn't as good a friend as you were.

While you were sleeping, I walked to your bedroom and took my usual spot on your bed. But I couldn't sleep that night. All I could hear was my father's voice, repeating itself over and over and over and over and over again.

"You'll never amount to anything if you stay around that hoodlum friend of yours!"

This was an argument my father and I had often. He thought I was too good for you, and you were some common trouble maker, while I defended you, saying that there was nothing hoodlum- like about you.

Hoodlum. That was the word kept circulating around in my head.

You were not a hoodlum. He had it all wrong. A hoodlum commits crimes and can't go back. He doesn't want to; he craves every bit of the life he lives.

I don't believe you ever wanted to be the way you are, I think it just happened. The fix made you crave it. It made you live the life you led, and I know every part of you wanted to break free from it, to start over.

You just didn't know how.

I tossed and turned over this, and after a while I gave up on sleep completely. I silently walked past your resting place and made a beeline to the window. I jumped on that roof as fast as I could and sat and stared at the night time sky.

The stars were always prettier on your roof. I never figured out why they calmed me more when I was at your house than when I was at mine. I think it was because you were near me and that your presence soothed me. No matter where we were or what we were doing, as long as I was by your side I knew I was going to be ok.

I was so enthralled by the night time sky that I didn't notice you were next to me until you spoke.

You said how there was no sky without the stars. How they brought personality to the sky. How they put life to a dull canvas. Like salt on pepper. Like Fruit Loops to an empty bowl of milk.

That made me giggle and then you absentmindedly told me I was the Fruit Loops to your bowl of milk.

Of course, I blushed and returned my gaze to the stars.

A nice silence took over the air and I closed my eyes.

"'Cause you shine so bright, like those stars above me. And I'd give it all just to lay one night in your arms,"

I think it was my mouth that those words escaped from, yet I didn't take it back. I wasn't confessing anything to you that night, the song just popped into my head and I let it flow from my lips.

You remember that's my favorite song from your IPod, right? I can't believe you had a song based around a book on your IPod, and what was funnier was I had to point that out to you, or else you would never know.

That book is so relatable to us. I'm Gatsby and you're Daisy. I just hope that we can rewrite the book, and the ending. The one thing is, I can't find out who Tom is.

You smiled and me and sang the next line. I shivered at the softness in your voice, and scooted closer to you.

You put your arm around and we sat there and silently sang the chorus.

"And I swear I'd give my life just to set you free, I don't think you understand, Daisy, you mean the world to me."

Never have truer words been spoken.

Love you forever,

Hinata

* * *

I know the rift between her talking about meth and then going to a flashback was weird, but I needed it. See, the person who i based naruto off of, Ethan, is missing. His parents can't find him and i dont know where he is. And i noticed that this story is focused on how drugs are bad(which they are) and how they fucked these two up, but before drug.. God _BEFORE_ drugs, when you have a normal friendship. it's wonderful, and right now i wanna think about ethan's good times, not his bad. because i don't know what's up with him, and if i never see him again, i'd rather remember the good times. When he enchanted me.

Edited while listening to Daisy's Lullaby (The Great Gatsby Rap) by Will Thwaites.  
Yes, it's a song about the book The Great Gatsbsong. And it's also the song they sing in this chapter, if you've read the book, you have to listen to it, even if you didn't like it. This is the sweetest song ever.


End file.
